


just a new beginning

by soft light (starryvin)



Series: update and restart [1]
Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect: Andromeda, Mass Effect: Annihilation
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Light Dom/sub, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, light age play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-19 05:15:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22005751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starryvin/pseuds/soft%20light
Summary: The hardest part about starting over is reinventing yourself.- - -This is now officially my rarest ship. I feel like I should have a speech prepared for the opening of this tag.
Relationships: Anax Therion/Borbala Ferank
Series: update and restart [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1584013
Comments: 4
Kudos: 5





	just a new beginning

**Author's Note:**

> The moment Borbala called Anax a, what, eyeball-licking lizard that thinks it's people... I knew I was going to ship it. I just didn't expect the author to agree.
> 
> Also, if Bioware makes a Mass Effect 5 and these space lesbians are mysteriously missing, I'm gonna revolt.

When Anax Therion wakes up again, for a second she is afraid.

The note is still there, on the inside of her pod, but it only takes her a few seconds to remember what happened the last time she woke up. She knows who she is, what she is doing here. That she almost died. That she loves atalfuo mangos.

She sits up and immediately feels her head start the same routine of cryo sickness.

But there's light all around her. Other drell pods are opening. She is not the only one. The realization floods in with such force that she just lays back down and closes her eyes.

"A few more minutes?"

She cracks an eye open. The drell nurse Sanat, one of the medical team, is staring down at her with a smile on his lips.

"Something like that," she says. Sanat is assessing her, clearly, looking to see if she is... all right.

"So, I think you should get to the med bay," he eventually says. "You look okay, praise Arashu, but we'll only know once we get a more detailed exam done. They'll have cava, too."

"Tell me," Anax says before she can stop herself. "It _is_ over, right?"

Sanat's smile mellows.

"Yes," he says. "We are docked. The Nexus hasn't had an easy year, but everything is fine."

She wants to see Borbala before she is really even awake. As soon as her feet hit the floor a nervous energy hits her stomach, making her cryo sickness just a little bit worse. She sits on the bench, waiting to be checked over, and rubs her fingers against each other, thinking, weighing, wondering. Borbala had looked happy in her pod. Happier when Anax had kissed her.

But she cannot _know_. It might wind up becoming yet another memory to keep out of her mind.

She is warring with herself the whole time the nurses check her out. That might be why she sees one write down "mildly disoriented" into her files. But she is just _thinking_. Weighing. Wondering. Truth or lie. Borbala had asked for the truth, but the problem with the truth is that it is unpredictable. Borbala didn't seem to mind unpredictable, but Anax isn't _stupid_ , she knows everyone has a type. And moreover, she knows she isn't many people's type.

And sure, fast friends doesn't even begin to cover what they had become just hours after Borbala called her "an eyeball-licking lizard that thinks it's people". But that was because Anax had _lied_. She'd _pretended_.

"I want to see a friend," she says when the medic pulls away. "Another habitat."

"The hanar habitat deck is straight forward through the radial," the medic says. "Sleepwalker teams are expected to report to the Operations deck in two hours."

Anax doesn't correct him. She bolts.

"Well, well, look who's here."

Anax doesn't quite manage to grin, but she does smile. Borbala is already at the Radial. Makes sense, she supposes: the batarian medical check is bound to be shorter than it is for a drell. The flowers are recovering, clearly hurt but growing back, and Anax thinks she might actually cry if she slips an inch into any kind of a memory about this place, those flowers. The Radial is brightly lid and happy, but it would take just a second for her control to wane and...

"My favourite memory frog," Borbala says. "Remember when I said that only the poor get hangovers?"

"What would you do if I said I didn't?" Anax asks. Borbala rolls her three eyes and leans in very close, secretive.

"Well, I'm feeling like complete and utter shit right now."

Anax can't stop herself from startling -- if Borbala is feeling bad now when she did not feel bad earlier when they woke up into the utter _nightmare_ then is it possible the virus has infected her and--

"Stop," the batarian's voice rumbles. Low, slow, drawling, calming. "Whatever you're thinking, stop."

Anax hugs her.

The human Pathfinder is the first to meet them, the apparently-famous managers of the chaos.

She is the very _definition_ of the human stereotype. Her weird hair is tied at the top of her head and she practically bounces over to the Blue-7 Sleepwalker team, hugs Senna instead of shaking his hand like he seems to expect. She goes on to try to hug Yassid who recoils, then Borbala who shoves her away, then Anax who just goes along with it, and then Irit Non whom she lifts up off the floor.

"Put me down, Earth-clan!" the volus screeches and the human laughs.

"It's Eos-clan now," she says as she let her go. "I am Sarah Ryder and I am _so_ happy to meet you all!"

"I just remembered why we all hate humans," Borbala says without attempting to keep her voice down much at all. Ryder tosses her hair.

"New galaxy," she says. "New friends, new enemies. I can't wait for you all to meet the angara, you'll probably hate them too!" She punctuates that with a laugh.

"I don't hate humans!" Senna cries out.

"We spent the whole journey here discussing how much we hate humans," Borbala says. "Don't lie to her. Our hatred for her kind was the only thing keeping us sane."

"Come on," Ryder laughs, by now clearly having caught onto the joke. "What did we ever do to you?"

And Anax is sure that like any good batarian, Borbala has an answer ready. But she doesn't say it, just smiles and nods towards the tram.

"Well, shouldn't we go meet all the other stupid people in charge?"

The salarian makes a real speech about heroism and about the will to live that permeates all species, in Milky Way as well as in Andromeda. The human, considerably less friendly than Ryder, makes some snide comment about the reason the virus was conceived. The krogan makes a threat to never allow cocoa DNA out of the archives if she keeps up. Borbala chortles and tells them that at least Keelah Si'yah managed to keep all of their Pathfinders alive. Of course, everyone takes offense -- even the turian who'd so far seemed quite unbothered.

It's _homely_. Anax has spent years of her life observing different species. She likes all the people of the Milky Way. Some more, some less, but they are all dear to her. She hadn't considered how much she might miss the Milky Way but now that she's here...

The Nexus is like the Milky Way distilled. She doesn't know how she will feel outside of it. But somewhere warm and dry, there is the home Borbala promised her.

She is tired by the time their Pathfinders finally show up from their meeting with the other Pathfinders, and is truly glad to be dismissed. It may well be the last time they are shown off like this, and if it is then she is happy.

But Borbala isn't tired. At all. And Senna isn't tired. Yassid leaves and Irit leaves, but Borbala and Senna hit the bar, and Anax forces herself to go along. She would much rather find the temporary housing that has been arranged for the newcomers and go to sleep, but she doesn't want to disappoint Borbala. It's not an entirely new feeling, but she's never had it this bad. Having spent a life never quite being enough, always being left behind while others were picked...

For once, she wants to be the first choice. And if that means forgoing her fatigue for another two hours of talking, then it's a trade she willingly makes.

"You look like you're falling asleep," Senna eventually says. He sounds a little bit choked. The topic had strayed too close to Yorrick and Anax hadn't felt equal to stopping it. She smiles and blinks slowly, the way she's noticed a lot of aliens like.

"I am a little tired."

"You should've just said so," Borbala says. "We've got years and years of this to come. Not drinking for one evening isn't going to kill anyone."

Anax turns her eyes to the batarian matriarch. Underneath the hard humour and scarred face, she looks... concerned.

"I want to relish this," Anax says and leans closer. Borbala huffs and takes her head by one point of her green fringe, bending her neck to rest on a hard, bony shoulder.

"Well, whatever you want," she says. Senna is sitting ramrod straight in his seat, looking awkward as anything. 'Stop doing that thing to the poor guy,' Borbala had said before, back on the ark. 'He's gonna make a mess of his suit if you blink at him one more time.' But she has spent a lifetime manipulating, pressing her advantage, making people feel how she wants them to feel. Comfortable, uncomfortable. Pleasantly uncomfortable, unpleasantly uncomfortable. Something in between, sometimes. She can't just _stop_.

Against her instincts to keep up with what is happening, to always survey her surroundings, she closes her eyes and sighs, relaxing into Borbala. The conversation moves on to lighter topics and she feels warm and comfortable, bottom half of the wine glass forgotten. Sitting there next to the two whiskeys of her companions, it represents an attempt.

She is almost asleep by the time Senna gets up. Clearly, Senna thinks she is already sleeping, because has started whispering some time ago.

"I need to sleep, too," he says softly. "Maybe you should take her to bed."

Borbala snorts.

"Oh, believe me," she says, full volume and fully aware that Anax is not, in fact, sleeping. "I've wanted to do that since she called me a damn _merchant_ in that sexy, smoky voice of hers."

"Is that why your mind went to me licking my eyeballs?" Anax asks, though her belly feels like it's suddenly full of molten gold. She squeezes Borbala's hand under the table.

Borbala laughs -- Senna splutters. He bids them goodbye quickly and pretty near runs off.

"There he goes," Borbala says and grabs the wine glass. "I'll down this if you don't want it."

"Go ahead," Anax says and watches the red drink pass between Borbala's thin lips. Her throat bobs as he swallows and Anax gets a passing fancy to press her lips against the movement. But she doesn't, she knows people are staring as it is. Besides, she is very sleepy and very content, happy to observe Borbala. She wants to crystallize every second in her memory, she needs some memories like this. Ones that she can revisit without sadness, without fear.

Borbala sighs as she takes her last gulp and shakes her head.

"Call me crazy," she says, "but this is harder to get down than quarian vodka."

Anax rolls her eyes. Borbala sighs again and pushes the glasses away.

"So, I think we need to actually walk to bed," she says. "I cannot carry you, you're far too tall. It will look awkward. Also, I don't want to."

Anax sits up and rolls her shoulders, genuinely missing the hard, painful feeling of Borbala's hard, pointy shoulder against her neck. This woman is making her into a masochist.

"Well, let's hurry up."

They almost don't make it into the bed. Borbala slams her against the door as soon as it's shut and she doesn't resist whatsoever, letting herself be handled and managed. She feels so drunk it's ridiculous, reeling to be fucked hard by this weird criminal woman. Borbala seems pleased with her submission, glad to be the one to lead her to the bed and topple her. Her superior height and weight doesn't seem to matter -- Borbala doesn't have any trouble moving her up the bed and then lifting her hips off of it. She squirms, mostly for show. She can be entirely still if need be.

"You're doing that thing again," Borbala says when Anax cries out a bit too loudly just at the feeling of Borbala's bony fingers first penetrating her. "You're trying to guess what I like."

It's true, but she can't just admit it.

"Well, what do you like?" she asks to be cheeky, just a bit undercut by how genuinely breathless she has been made. Borbala steals the rest of her breath with a deep, hard kiss that leaves her feeling completely _owned_ in every way. Tongue in her mouth, fingers in her cunt, one hand immobilized against the mattress. All of a sudden, she can barely hold on.

"I like _you_ ," Borbala finally says, voice husky, lips just touching Anax' neck, and her fingers grind against her insides, slow and strong. "You stupid lizard."

She has never come so fast and yet so violently.

"Good girl," Borbala mutters into her skin as she moans and whines. "That's a good little girl. Pent up for six hundred years, were you, sweetie?"

Anax pants for breath for a while, feeling Borbala move against her, clearly chasing her own orgasm. She takes a few more seconds to rest and then rolls them over (gently, slowly, allowing for Borbala to take control back but she doesn't).

"I should have known you have a kink for age play," she says. "I just didn't take you for a sweet-talker."

Borbala laughs.

"Sugar, you're falling asleep," she says. "Let me take care of myself."

She's right, of course, but Anax whines at just the thought of missing all the sensory data, only getting to see and guess and lie still underneath the batarian while she gets herself off. Borbala tilts her head to the right. Condescending, insulting, _you're being silly, a lizard that thinks it's people_.

"Please," Anax breathes, not because she knows Borbala wants her to but because she wants to.

"Aww," Borbala coons. "You _have_ been a real good girl today, maybe you deserve a treat." It ends on a pondering note, it's clearly not permission. Anax is a coiled spring, ready to jump into francticism. She is practically trembling above the batarian, all fatigue forgotten in her frenzy to please this difficult, criminal woman.

"Hmmmm," Borbala hums. Her hand still moves between her legs, massaging slowly. "Well, I suppose. Just take it easy, babygirl."

Anax manages to stop herself from launching at Borbala -- she slithers down the woman's body instead, kissing the jutting bones and the thick muscle around them, fully aware that she isn't supposed to think it's attractive but unable to not see the confidence and swagger and not think that Borbala is the hottest person she has ever ran into. She's seen beautiful, handsome, pretty, fuckable... Borbala is none of those things and yet she acts as though she is all of them, and it's very much enough to make her into a damn goddess.

She kneels on the floor, eventually, and Borbala sits up lazily, legs spread, cunt wet. She smells odd -- earthy, musky, and Anax wants to get that scent into her skin, make herself the property of this weird, weird person. She sighs shakily and opens her mouth -- the taste is on her tongue before she even touches Borbala's skin. The hanar are the only aliens that run cooler than the drell, and Borbala's skin feels searing at first on her tongue.

She could cry when Borbala's fingers find her fringe and start petting gently. She slides her tongue between the lips of the batarian's cunt and Borbala curses harshly. She digs a heel into Anax's upper back to pull her closer -- she goes happily, lets Borbala rut against her tongue and lips and blunt, small nose. Her eyes squeeze shut and she clutches Borbala's thighs to stay in control of herself at least somewhat.

"Fuck," Borbala groans and the grinding of her hips slows as her juices gush out and onto Anax's face. She's not prepared, not really -- she gasps as she pulls away, face wet with the stuff. It's got the colour of snot and the consistency of jelly, and there's enough of it for it to drip onto her chest.

"Arashu," she swears before she can stop herself. "Wow."

Borbala chuckles hoarsely, breathlessly.

"Shit, frog girl," she says. "Never fucked a batarian before?"

"No, I haven't," Anax says. Borbala laughs harder and sits up, unconcerned of the stuff still dripping out of her. Anax licks her lips -- it tastes musky, much like Borbala's skin. She lets a moan slip out -- Borbala gets a gentler look on her face.

"Get up on the bed, sweetie," she says. "I'll get towels."

Anax is almost asleep by the time Borbala has wiped them both clean with the warm towels. She is exhausted. But when Borbala starts dressing herself and getting her bag, Anax jerks awake, a million memories flashing across her eyes -- people leaving her and leaving her and her leaving people and people leaving her and--

"Go to sleep, honey," Borbala whispers into her ear. "I'll be right back, I promise. I'll just get us something to eat in the morning."

Anax doesn't want to look clingy. But she doesn't go to sleep -- she waits on the bed, unable to sleep until Borbala returns into the dark apartment.

"What a dumb lizard," Borbala grumbles when she slides up into the bed beside her. "I'm not going to disappear on you."

Anax doesn't answer. She curls around Borbala's form and relaxes. In the darkness she thinks she can feel their heartbeats synchronizing.

**Author's Note:**

> Four more things:  
> 1\. Thane has made me see all drell as Soft Subs  
> 2\. The way Senna almost creams his suit when Anax just BLINKS at him made me lose my shit, seriously, she just blinks at him and he start going on this full tangent about how pretty she is and how aliens do things they don't even realize are sensual and aaaaaaaaaaaaaah it's gorgeous  
> 3\. Borbala can step on me anytime and call me anything she wants and I now need a batarian companion  
> 4\. I was fully 100% prepared for Borbala to die and she didn't and I can't even begin to describe how good that felt


End file.
